


A Glimpse of the Truth

by Bunsandpups



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4974769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunsandpups/pseuds/Bunsandpups
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael thinks he sees someone in the mirror, someone other than himself. But is it really just in his head?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Glimpse of the Truth

     Michael grimaced as he looked into the mirror. Every day for a week now, he could swear he saw someone coming closer from the corner of his eye. They’d started off far behind him, as if they were as far as they could be while still being visible. But now they seemed to almost be right over his shoulder, every time he was looking in a mirror he owned.

     “I have got to get some fucking sleep and lay off the caffeine,” he muttered to himself. He finished shaving and wiped his face off with a towel. For a moment, he swore that there was a glint of something sharp behind him. But it was gone just as soon as he had time to wonder what it was.

     “Fuck this, I’m gonna be late for work,” he grumbled. He walked out of the bathroom and out of the house, driving to work. Luckily, whatever he was hallucinating in the mirrors at home hadn’t followed him into his car. He might actually get into an accident if he suspected the thing was in there with him.

     Filming for the day left him tired quickly. He was actually thankful to be working edits in the afternoon. It meant he would have some time to just be “off” and not have to worry about keeping up a persona. Plus, if he looked grim, he could pass it off as trying to focus on the work in front of him.

     “Michael, do you wanna go for bevs and swimmies tonight?” Gavin’s voice interrupted his train of thought. He looked up to realize it was just about time to head home, and that he’d gotten most of his work done.

     “Nah, not tonight Gavin. I’m pretty tired. I must’ve slept funny or had weird dreams last night.” Michael was, for once, glad that Gavin was so oblivious. He really didn’t want questions about this.

     “Alright. See you over at Burnie’s tomorrow for the party, right?”

     “Yeah, of course,” Michael answered easily. He’d be able to forget everything that was happening there, and laugh off his paranoia for just too much stress during the week.

     On the way home, he saw the same metallic glint in his rearview mirror. He nearly ran himself off the road before he pulled over to the side. He’d picked a fairly isolated spot, mostly because he didn’t want to have a mental breakdown in the middle of a goddamn highway.

     He turned to see if he could see anyone in the back seat, but he couldn’t. “Okay. This is fucking ridiculous. I have _got_ to head home and get some quality sleep. Maybe call a fucking shrink and take a day off.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wheel.

     For a few seconds, everything was fine. Then, he heard a rustling coming from the back seat. He sat up just in time to feel something come across his neck.

     The assailant dragged him back against the chair, keeping a fairly even pressure on his neck. The glint is obvious now; it’s that incredibly heavy fishing line Michael’s seen down at docks a few times on his morning jogs.

     “Who the fuck—“ The assailant cuts him off with a sharp pull against his neck.

     “Does that really matter?” The voice sounds familiar, but Michael can’t place it. “What matters is that you picked the perfect spot to die today.”

     Michael wants to struggle, but the pressure against his neck cuts off his air. He can’t breathe. He stops resisting as the edges of his vision go blurry, and the assailant relaxes his grip. The wire slides down and the cool edge of a knife replaces it against Michael’s throat.

     “Perhaps you weren’t just paranoid after all.” With that, Michael watches in horror as his own throat is slit. He chokes and gurgles on the blood for a few minutes before passing out, soon to die from the blood loss. The killer slips from the car, unnoticed, and walks easily along the road. He hides the knife in its sheath and smirks to himself. _People these days don’t remember how to_ really _be afraid_ , he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> Mirrors are fucking terrifying. I hope you enjoyed the story!


End file.
